


Needle in a Bruise

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan), MissMadWorld, repentantheroes (MissMadWorld)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lancelot - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 05:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14205738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMadWorld/pseuds/MissMadWorld, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMadWorld/pseuds/repentantheroes
Summary: Discussions of a tactical alliance between Prince Lotor and Team Voltron go about as well as can be expected. He is allowed sanctuary in the Castle of Lions, but with strict limitations and the constant suspicion he'll turn on them. He finds a surprising challenge in the Blue-turned-Red paladin, who is the first to not only extend a hand, but sass him back with little hesitation.As Lotor tries to find his place among those who once called him an enemy, he’s reunited with someone from his past he thought long dead. That mentor reminds him of his Galra origins and the potential of the Voltron paladins to end the corruption of Zarkon’s empire. Lotor is inspired to the task of awakening that potential — if in his own prideful and sometimes obnoxious way.With Lotor's well-meaning help, Lance is the first to see not only the fractures and frailties of himself and his space family, but also what he’s truly capable of when driven to his limits. Little by little, wounds are uncovered, cut and drained to heal. All the while, Lance and Lotor push through their differences side-by-side — and head-to-head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, another Galra Big Bang collaboration! It was my honor to work with the great [Cappie](http://leonineheroes.tumblr.com) and our artist was [Little Lucky Angel](http://little-lucky-angel.tumblr.com). We'd like to thank you for reading and for the patience of our artist, who dealt with all the real life interruptions we had going on while working on this fic. Please make sure to show him all the love as well! Hope you enjoy!

"So," Lance says casually, shifting Red's control to give Lotor's fighter chase, "when are you going to turn on us for the next better thing?"

"I was rather under the impression that Voltron was the pinnacle of universal achievement. If you disagree I suppose I  _ should _ start looking for other options. No sense sticking with a team if even its own members think there's someone out there more likely to succeed." Lotor cuts his engines and spins on Lance, turning on him physically and sending their respective ships rocketing toward one another.

Lance doesn't know if the Galra understand what 'chicken' is, but he sees the challenge for what it is. He pushes forward on Red's thrusters, feeling her rumble of vicious challenge from the depths of his ribcage.  _ Trust me _ . His sensors have a lock on Lotor, and his head is in the game, sliding right into Red's sight to time his move. Somehow she's so much easier to fly when he's running sky drills with their newest questionable comrade.

"Just because  _ we  _ know we're the best, doesn't mean you won't get some crazy plan in your head and ghost on us. Sounds like something you'd do, right? I dare you to prove me wrong." 

Right when it looks like he's going to let them collide, he pulls Red up and into a backflip, firing her tail laser right at Lotor's front viewing pane.

Lotor grins wildly at the dexterity of Lance's maneuver and throws himself into a dodge, his ship twisting so fast between bursts of the tail laser that the chassis would singe at the seams had it been any less frictionless in design. He does take a glancing shot off the rounded hull, but nothing that would put him out of commission. They fight like over-aggressive pups, each nip always just barely shy of doing real damage.

"That challenge was accepted before you ever posed it, paladin. I'm not going anywhere."

When he comes about and comes to an abrupt halt, his viewscreen is mere feet away from the red lion's enormous eyes. They're close enough that without their ships Lance might've heard him even without the comms if there were a medium in space capable of carrying his voice. It's as close to staring Lance down as Lotor will get, for now.

Were Lance feeling particularly cheeky, he would have nudged Red forward just to bump at Lotor’s ship in challenge. As it is, he twists the right thruster, and she whirls to turn her tail to Lotor. 

“Catch me if you can, then!” 

He and Pidge had discovered an asteroid field not too far from where they’d managed to secure the castle. While he had missed out on the first time Red had ever gone through one, with all her grace and speed, he’d jumped at the chance to play in this one with her. After a few accidental collisions — and a very clear scolding from his Lion — he’d started to learn. He and Pidge played tag in the field, and he practically taunts Lotor to follow now. Lance wants to see just how good he is, and if an asteroid happens to take out their suspicious new ally, well, that couldn’t really  be his fault.

Lotor pauses only a moment to revel in the thrill of the challenge before hurtling after him. The asteroid field turns up on his scanners quickly enough, and, "Oh, Blue Paladin. Now /this/ is the type of fun that's gonna keep me around." 

He hurtles past the the first few asteroids where they float distant from their cousins, splashes of stone far from the main current. The current of stones grows thicker quickly and he barrel rolls over one, his heart picking up speed as adrenaline forces him forward. He doesn't quite follow the trail Red leaves, picking his own path to catch up. 

"Careful, Blue," he calls out in a singsong. "Don't get distracted," he says somewhat ironically.

Lance bites back a snarky response, planting his feet more firmly and hunched in concentration. He knows what happens if he actually does let his attention slip, and he won’t allow Lotor the satisfaction. He can’t help but feel a discord inside him, no matter how much he’s trying to concentrate. All around him Red thrums, a constant reminder of how much they need to trust one another here. And at the same time, there’s a pang of longing. What would it be like to pilot Blue here, to actually be the Blue Paladin with his girl, playing tag in space. Red can practically feel his heart; she must know what he feels like, Lion and Paladin being apart. He clutches the thrusters tighter, previously unaware that the wound is still fresh when he had thought it closed over with time and duty. There isn’t time for living in the past, he’s gotta— He isn’t fast enough to dodge a smaller asteroid that clips Red on her left shoulder. 

The jolt knocks him completely out of focus, and Red growls her displeasure at having to make up for his lack. Over and over, they collide, and at first they’re small hits, but no matter how hard he yanks on the thrusters and tries to hone in on what’s ahead, he can’t re-establish his connection with her. He’s flying on his own terrible sight and the terror of bruises he only feels superficially, muscles straining while he pulls and pushes against Red’s controls. Lance bites his tongue until it bleeds; he won’t give Lotor the satisfaction of yelling out.

Lotor is close in the small gravity of a large asteroid when he catches sight of Lance again, and his smile falls fast when he sees Red clipped and spinning out of control. He gives Lance a moment to correct but each motion becomes jerkier, more desperate than the last and he over-corrects too hard more than once. 

His trajectory has him destined for a head-on collision. Lotor darts down, careens around a little lump of an asteroid to get to him in time. His ship is powerful, but it's so much smaller than the Red lion he has to put everything the engines have into thrusting back to slow her velocity once he has his ship tucked up against her chest. 

He grits his teeth and every muscle clenches as he holds the thrusters firm against the weight of the Red Lion's momentum. The asteroid before them grows closer fast, and in any other ship Lotor might've been crushed between this enormous force and that immovable object. 

As it stands, he halts her fall with only a small space to spare. After a beat to breathe through the tension, that smile flickers back into his eyes in triumph. 

"Lance?" he calls, trying hard to keep the smugness out of his voice until he knows what really sent the Red Lion reeling. No good gloating if Lance is unconscious in there, after all.

Mortified, Lance hovers with Red in a clear, safe space, and hearing Lotor’s voice makes him positively cringe. She waits for him to catch up to his surroundings, unapologetically rumbling. He can only imagine she’s none too pleased at being banged up just because he’d lost himself in a moment of time he can’t get back. He grips the thrusters, but stays perfectly still, swallowing back bile and trying to compose himself enough to answer. He knows if he just lingers there in silence, Lotor might just get the bright idea to get in his face again. 

“Let’s go back now,” he finally says, each word scraping its way up his throat and clawing its way out of his mouth in a tense punch of sound. It only takes him a second longer to tack on an even more resigned, “thanks for the help.” He hopes Lotor will let it go, he doesn’t want to relive that moment to the backdrop of Lotor being obnoxious. Without waiting for a response, he shifts and draws Red back up and towards the nearest way out of the asteroid field. The Castle isn’t too far away from where they’d started their spar, and all he wants to do is curl up in his bunk.

"Hold on," Lotor says sternly, careening around until he's directly in Lance's path, between him and the clearest way out. All the smugness had drained from him as soon as he had heard the boy's voice, the fun and excitement of their rivalry and the chase has been wrung of the situation fast, and Lotor is worr-

Well, going back with Lance in this state is not going to be earning him any favor with the Princess. He considers for a long moment before deciding there's nothing for it. 

"I'm coming over," he says, letting his concern show and leaving no room whatsoever for argument. Lance must hear his safety harnesses unbuckling over the comms. "Open up."

He flips a series of switches to unlock the lower hatch and flips his visor down before dropping out of his ship, arms crossed to keep his elbows from clipping on the way out. The hatch lowers behind him and he hears the air seal close with a hiss behind him as he kicks his jet pack to life, moving quickly toward Red. Honestly, there's no reason for Lance to let him in and he knows it.

By the time Lance is about to accuse him of being crazy, Lotor is already out of his ship and floating expectantly in front of the Red Lion’s mouth. By all rights, the cocky prince absolutely deserved for Lance to fire up the thrusters again and move around him now that he couldn’t be blocked so easily by Lotor’s ship. It would serve him right to be left behind while Lance sought the relative safety of his home away from home. But as he focuses on Lotor through Red’s eyes, he realizes just what an asshole that makes him feel like and wonders if that’s just another of Lotor’s manipulation tactics. It’s absurd to think that the taunting from before had been on purpose. Not even Lance had known that the switch from Blue to Red had left such a fiercely aching wound behind until seconds before he’d struck the meteor. Lotor was good, but there’s no way he could have known. 

That’s why Lance grinds his teeth together before slamming his fist on the console, right on the sensor that opens Red’s hatch. She’s not happy about it, and he feels her disapproval in the hum between his ribs, but he doesn’t care right now. It startles him when her open mouth lets out a roar that’s very clearly a warning to Lotor not to make her Paladin regret his decision to show him hospitality aboard her. Her jaws clamp shut once he’s boarded, and she reluctantly opens the door behind Lance’s seat. 

“What?” he grumbles. “Something wrong with your ship?”

"Something is wrong with  _ you _ ," Lotor insists, pulling his helmet off as he stalks close and takes Lance's jaw in hand, turning his face one way, then the other in search of obvious head wounds. His tone wasn't cruel, but rather genuinely curious as least and on a level not far beneath the surface, insistently concerned. 

He's not going back to his ship until he's certain Lance is alright. He needs to know that he has the fortitude to be the right hand of Voltron. 

Seeing no obvious physical ailment, he drops to a knee, hoping that making himself unassuming will get the beast to quit growling at them. 

"What happened out there?"

Lance looks down at him, resisting the urge to childishly rub his chin where Lotor’s touch had been. This level of attention goes well beyond anything Lance expects of him. It’s nearly as unsettling as his own behavior in the last several minutes. He’s trying to make the picture of Zarkon’s son at the foot of his chair in the Red Lion’s cockpit make sense, and all he comes up with is static. None of this makes much sense at all, least of all the concern written on Lotor’s features. He doesn’t want to be lured into anything, he just wants to go home. 

“I wasn’t fast enough to miss a giant floating rock,” he grumbles. “I busted out of the moment, y’know? It wasn’t a big deal.” That isn’t entirely a lie, but Lance doesn’t know just how familiar or not Lotor is with the lore of the Lions. For all he knows, the prince could have been told everything by Zarkon’s witch and his court, or he could have truly been shut out of the affairs of the Empire and know nothing. There’s no way to gauge one way or the other, and he’ll be damned if he’ll hand a potential traitor significant information about the bonds between Lions and Paladin. 

Lance takes a deep breath. “But I meant what I said before. Thanks for breakin’ my fall, so t’speak.”

Lotor scowls at Lance's dismissal of the incident.    
  
"My pleasure. Can't have the defender of the universe going armless into battle if I want to continue living in it, after all." He dismisses his own part in this without so much as a pause for the irony. "But we both know it was more than missing a turn. You doubt your connection to your Lion," he accuses.   
  
Oh, he knows how this works. He had grown up well aware that his father's greatest emotional ballast had been the Black Lion--he was never given a chance to forget it.

Lance flashes his teeth, gritting out his retort with his fists clenched on his arm rests. “I don’t doubt my connection with my Lion. She chose me, so there’s nothing to question. Mistakes happen, even with giant mystical cat robots. So, take your superior attitude and shove it.” The minute the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. Lance wonders if provoking his temper is a special skill Lotor has or if perhaps it’s something he inherited along with the Red Lion. He reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose. He wonders if he should apologize and if it would even matter. He does it anyway, muttering it quietly, but loud enough to be heard. He hates this feeling so much, not knowing how to act around someone. Usually that’s the last thing he has to worry about.

The apology is a surprise, but Lotor takes it in stride as it also confirms his suspicion. He simply nods his acknowledgement.    
  
"You've got all the right bluster, all the right talking points, but it's going to take believing it to survive. That means all the way down to your soul," he pushes a knuckle into Lance's sternum like he's leading him to the core of himself by the hand, "believing in your divine right to your place in this cockpit."   
  
He sighs and pulls back. Nothing he can say will make the Lance believe, that's not how faith works.    
  
"It'll come," he assures Lance cryptically as he stands, pulling his regal demeanor back on like a cloak.

Lance continues to glare up at him, but he feels that spot in his chest more than just the pressure of Lotor's hand. He wants to believe it's Red he feels at the very depths of him, her fire whooshing across his existence like steam over water. He's still not used to it, but hell if he'll say so out loud.    
  
He opens his mouth, even though he's not sure what exactly will come out of it, but he's distracted by a streak of light off to the left of his viewing pane. Out of instinct, he reaches out to tap a few spots on his dash, and Red zooms in on the ship. He groans.    
  
"Great, we have company."


	2. Chapter 2

Lotor is able to see a glimpse of a small ship, dark colors and purple lights that are softer than any of the Empire ships. It's built like a pod, but with the speed of a fighter, and it whooshes its way towards the castle. The handling is very similar to the fighter Lotor saw seconds before he shattered the shield on the witch's battle cruiser.

Lotor's head snaps around to the view screen and his expression goes hard, fast. He's already tucking his hair back into his helmet and rushing toward the exit to get back to his ship when he calls back over his shoulder.   
  
"We can take them." He'd give more reassurance if they had time. "You're a better pilot than you give yourself credit for." He really can't afford to go into battle with Lance doubting himself, and after the asteroid field, the kid obviously won't benefit from a scolding.

Lance doesn't watch him go, flopping back in his seat until he heard all the tell-tale signs that he'd rid himself of his guest. The whoosh and release of Red opening her jaws, and the vision of him jetting back to the ship. He waits only until he sees the hatch seal with Lotor safely inside. Then he lurches forward.    
  
A nasty grin pulls at his face as he yanks one of the thrusters. Red roars and jerks around, all her boosters firing. "Race you to the castle," he tells no one in particular -- or anyone who's listening.

They arrive at the castle ship seconds before the rebel ship, even with its sizable lead--the benefits of custom crafts obvious and no doubt infuriating to those piloting inferior machines to the best of their ability. . Lotor's designated hangar always takes longer to let him in than strictly necessary, like the base itself was suspicious of him, and the impatience of a prince makes each second spent waiting for security checks seem like an eternity. Ship's taking its cues from her Majesty, no doubt.    
  
By the time he vaults out of the hull and starts along the hallway to the bridge, the Blade's emissaries must've already begun their debriefing. He eats up ground in long strides, but is already preparing an unrushed entrance when he nearly bumps into Lance coming around a corner.    
  
He wonders why Lance would drag his feet...he should've had plenty of time to make it back from his lion while Lotor's ship was scanned for treacherous tech.

It seems that Lance has some residual energy from their adventure out in the asteroid field, because he veers to the side to jab Lotor in the ribs.    
  
"In a hurry?" he teases. "You'd think you were happy to see some grumpy recon allies or something." He flashes Lotor a toothy grin, giving him a hard time for nearly crashing into him in his haste but also ribbing him for all the security checks. "Does Allura even allow you on the bridge yet?"

Of course she does, and Lance has been there, but it would appear that Lance has had enough of being vulnerable for one day, and who better to give a hard time to.

"Not without some scowling and undiplomatic huffing. Not very good at hiding her displeasure, is she?" he doesn't quite manage to cover the instinct to protect his core and flinch away from the jab to his ribs by crossing his arms. He looks toward the bridge, eager to go but not so eager to continue his hustle now that he has company. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up a little for allowing Lance to slip into his peripheral vision.

“She’s actually pretty terrible at it. But you didn’t hear that from me.” Lance’s gaze flickers down to Lotor’s side and back up again. “Then again, maybe if you’d left a better impression on her the first time you met, maybe you wouldn’t have to hear so much growling. You should sweep her off her feet, like I did.” He falls into step beside Lotor, content to keep the pace and the prodding for as long as Lotor allows it. It’s a game like their spar, and Lance isn’t ready to lose twice so easily.

Lotor lifts a skeptical eyebrow and looks down at him out of the corner of his eye as they go. "And risk your ire for infringing on your territory like the Holt boy? I think not. You'd hate me all the more for being more competition than you could handle," he prods back.    
  
"And on top of it all," he adds with a sigh and a wave of his hand, "I'd come away with a royal paramour for whom I have no real interest, which will lead to inevitable heartbreak and even further dissolution of our alliance." He finishes with what he hopes is an infuriatingly airy matter-of-factness. "If it's all the same to you, I'll leave you to take her rejections."

Lance tilts his head and squints at him, then lets out a husky laugh. "You're something else, you know that?" The laughter fades into a rueful smile as they approach the doors to the bridge, but there's still a trace of amusement in his voice. "Do Galra not really get the subtle -- or not so subtle -- nuance of a joke? That's really going to hold you back here, because lemme tell ya, we have a  _ lot _ of jokes. Don't take everything so literally all the time."

"It's hardly my fault if you're not keeping up with the battle of wits you started," Lotor fires back amicably, with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and a twinkle in his eye making it quite clear he's been teasing back from the jump. Perhaps the Galra delivery is more dry than is typical among the human custom--good to know. He jostles Lance with his elbow, and for a moment they're almost...friendly.

The bridge doors whoosh open right before them, and out trudges Keith, hood back and expression light. Right behind him is Shiro, grin on his face, and they come face-to-face with Lance and Lotor. Keith’s eyes darken, the almost-smile on his face vanishing completely. He eyes the prince suspiciously, and he can barely hide the disappointment at Lance’s apparent comfort with their newest ally.    
  
“You missed the briefing,” Keith muttered, and while he says it loud enough for both to hear, it’s probably mostly for Lance, as if Lotor isn’t even there.    
  
Lance shrugs, but all the humor is gone from his demeanor. “Was training. Gotta stay sharp with my Lion.”    
  
“Mm.”    
  
Shiro reaches out to put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Come on, Keith. I’m sure Allura will fill them in.”

It doesn't escape Lotor's notice, the way those two orbit each other. They're their own binary star system, each perceiving the other as the sun and less aware than they should be that their way about each other insulates them from the rest of the team.    
  
Still...there's something off-kilter about Keith's trajectory. His orbit is out of sync with itself, like he's uncertain of something. Lotor can practically taste it.    
  
"Exceedingly pleasant, that one. So glad I saved him." There's no real spite in it, but he does heave an exaggerated, put-upon sort of sigh.

Keith jerks back at the words, a flash of shock turning very quickly into a snarl that he tries to mask into an eye roll. It’s a storm of expression that only lasted a few seconds but says so very much. "Yeah, yeah. You're a big damn hero for saving everyone."   
  
Shiro's gaze flickers over to Keith, concern knotting his brows. He can tell something isn't right, and he doesn't do a great job of hiding the realization.

Lotor scoffs and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back on one foot to look down at Keith skeptically. They both know the truth.    
  
"'Everyone,' may have ultimately benefited, but I seem to remember your own fate benefiting particularly from my intervention,  _ pup _ ." The diminutive is meant every bit to knock him down a peg. The threat that he'll reveal Keith's near-sacrifice hangs heavy between them, making the air seem to crackle with tense static.

"Don't flatter yourself,  _ outcast _ ," Keith snapped. "You might have done the right thing, but that doesn't make you good. In fact--"   
  
"Keith."   
  
Shiro has reached out to Keith's shoulder to stay his comments, but it is another voice that quiets him. Out from the bridge steps Kolivan, his height imposing over all, including Lotor. He lays an impossibly large hand on top of Keith's head. Dark blue eyes still lock on Lotor in a glare, but Keith's shoulders drop slightly.    
  
"Leader."   
  
"To the training deck with you. Go on. Shiro, take him."

Lotor doesn't shrink for Kolivan's appearance, but he doesn't puff himself up either, just lets the other Galra take control of the situation and stands his ground while Shiro steers Keith away. His chest is tight.   
  
"This crew keeps too many secrets by far," he says cryptically as they disappear from view. "Kid's gonna need a talking to if he's going to survive this war, Kolivan." It's not a threat, it's a warning. He has seen soldiers who don't care whether they make it home, and it always ends in--well, a waste of talent at the very least. Whether Lotor likes him or not, he has to admit Keith has that in spades and with an empire to bring down, they'll need every body they can get.   
  
Still, he knows better than to expect any of the Paladins to care what he has to say about much of anything and he lets it drop, his expression turning from grim to curious as quickly as he changes the subject.   
  
"Now, what did we miss from the briefing?"  _ We _ allies him with the Blue Paladin beside him, who is far more likely to receive the brief than he is alone.

“Wait, hold on a second!” Lance bursts out, holding his hands up. “Forget the briefing, someone tell me what just happened.” He turns a Look on Lotor. “You got him all fired up over something!”   
  
“The Princess is expecting you on the bridge, Paladin. I will speak to Lotor.” Kolivan’s tone is definitely not a suggestion, significant and heavy.    
  
Lance scowls but he throws his hands up. “Fine! But  _ you _ !” He points an accusing finger at Lotor. “You won’t get away with not telling me. I’ll find you later.” 

"Your company is always my pleasure," Lotor acquiesces with all the annoying elegance of a royal as Lance turns through the bridge doors. They slide closed on Lance’s loud announcement of arrival.   
  
He lets the quiet hang between Kolivan and himself for a long time after the doors shut again. Eventually he sticks a hand out in front of himself, examining his cuticle for a non-existent hangnail as though bored.    
  
"Well?"


	3. Chapter 3

“Well?”

Kolivan looks unimpressed with Lotor’s attitude. “Prince or not, I am still your elder and you will speak to me with respect, boy.” He starts walking towards one of the observation decks. “All the same, it is a relief to see you well, despite current events.”

Lotor cracks a genuine smile as he falls into step with Kolivan.    
  
"The relief is mutual, Teacher." Observing the tradition of the title is not so hard with Kolivan as it had been with others who expected it without ever having taught him a bleeding thing worth knowing.    
  
"Even for a leader of a secret society, you've done well keeping yourself hidden. Your Blade are trained well to keep your name out of their mouths on the rare occasion one is caught by the empire; I haven't heard so much as a whisper suggesting your involvement." He had always suspected, of course. Hoped, even.

Kolivan acknowledges the praise for what it is with a solemn nod. "The training I have given them is as much for their safety as mine. We have been in waiting too long to jeopardize any of our missions with carelessness."    
  
He clasps his hands behind his back, his pace unhurried. "It was a bold move, allying with the coalition after all that has happened. I am almost disappointed your reign over the empire was so brief. The tide could have turned in a much different way."

A guilty, disappointed pang strikes Lotor through the chest, but the doesn't miss a step. Of course the pipe dream that he could change the trajectory of the Empire had taken root and sparked a real hope in spite of all the odds--who wouldn't want to be the hero who changed the galactic notoriety of their entire race for the better?    
  
The part of him that wishes he could have delivered his people stings more precisely as Kolivan's casual disappointment presses down heavily over the weight of his own.    
  
"An object in motion stays in motion," he says solemnly, mourning his lost chance at changing the collective fate of his people as a leader instead of a rogue son. "The Empire was set on this terrible path so long ago--I suppose it was lofty to think I could reverse its course entirely. Still, I cannot help but beat myself against it even now in the hope that it'll make enough difference in the long run."

Kolivan reaches out, and much like he had done with Keith, his hand rests on Lotor’s shoulder. It’s heavy, strong, squeezing a wordless reassurance. “Have no doubt that your time in power, however brief, made an impression. The Blade has seen and heard you speak words of the old empire. Honorable combat and rising up with pride. Your message did not fall on deaf ears.” 

Lotor freezes under the weight of Kolivan's hand--it has been so long since he has had anything more than his own pride driving him.   
  
Kolivan releases his hold as they approach the observation deck, and instead lets them in where they can have a quiet moment against the backdrop of the stars.    
  
“As much as I hate to say it, the real problem is that our illustrious emperor keeps reappearing when we least expect it and unravels so much careful work. The mission to reclaim Naxzella was a closer call than we would have liked, but thanks to you, we were victorious. I am proud of you, Lotor. You are every bit the warrior in whose eyes I saw promise all those years ago.”

The force of Kolivan's approval hits him like a cargo ship, slow and heavy. He doesn't  _ need _ the affirmation to maintain his course, but suddenly having it, even in spite of his failure, overwhelms him into letting the crisp line of his shoulders sag as they enter the observation deck.    
  
He knows his path is righteous, but someone else knowing it too...it matters. The respect of a soldier like Kolivan makes the shame of his deposition (which he suspects will always weigh in his belly like a black hole) a little easier to bear. His position as Prince always tilted what might've been a paternal relationship off-kilter just so, each of them outranking the other in different ways, but if there's anyone among the stars Lotor looks up to, it's Kolivan.    
  
"I was lucky to be given the guidance to become so," he hums, gratitude easier to express here, without any airs to put on. "I can only hope it'll be enough."

"All of the tools are present, Lotor," Kolivan tells him, clasping his hands behind his back.    
  
He looks upon the stars, and his expression to them is softer than it once was. At one time, he had embraced his life as a soldier, and preferred both feet firmly planted on the ground of his home planet. Without a real home planet to speak of now, he's come to appreciate the stars, learned his way around a cockpit. His pupils have always had a better talent for it than he; Lotor had been no different. Gifted.   
  
"Though to your earlier point, a war is all about secrets. Even the Blade understands that. But you must have patience with the paladins of Voltron. They have what it takes for all of this to be 'enough', but lack the training. The Lions would not have chosen them if they did not possess the qualities they need to form Voltron. But every day will be a day that they grow that much more. It will test your patience, as it often tests my own."

"Growing pains," Lotor sighs, resigned. "How quaint."    
  
Once, he had dreamt he'd redeem his father's legacy as the Black Paladin. Some nights, he still wonders if he could've become the leader his father never was...perhaps it just isn’t in him. While aspirations to intergalactic camaraderie are central to his goals for the empire, patience and interpersonal cooperation were never his strong suits.    
  
He closes his eyes and doesn't let the sting settle in.    
  
"Why isn't the little mutt piloting the Red Lion anymore? Lance seems more suited to the Blue Lion's temperament." His insights into the Paladins are admittedly limited at this point, and Lance is the only one who has let him close enough to start formulating his questions so far.

Kolivan glances over at Lotor, considering. Of course, it would make sense that he knows more than he can actually speak of regarding the tenuous situation with the paladins. There's a delicate balance in what Lotor should be told and what he should learn for himself, and Kolivan has to be careful how he treads that line.    
  
"Keith made a choice to train with the Blade to hone his skills. It would seem that Voltron has enough pilots to sustain it while he betters himself and his control."

Lotor considers him for a moment before out at the stars.    
  
"I trust your judgement. If you think he's worthy to learn at your feet, there must be more to him than the attitude I saw out there. Still," it's a difficult subject, but while he doesn't necessarily care one way or the other about this 'Keith's' ultimate fate come the end of the war, he knows Kolivan takes the loss of his own harder than he lets on.    
  
"Did he tell you what happened out there at Naxzella? What really happened, I mean."

A flicker of concern tugs at Kolivan’s brow.  _ Lotor was able to bring the barrier down before I could. _ Keith’s answer had made enough sense at the time, but he doesn’t like the implication there’s more to it than simply a matter of who took it down first.    
  
“Keith tells me little without prodding. He is not a talkative one, by nature.” Unless proving a point out of stubbornness. 

Lotor's mouth presses into a thin line. "I thought as much." 

“What is it about that day that has you concerned?”

Lotor pulls in a deep breath before beginning again. "I can respect the occasional necessity of sacrifice in any war. Sometimes, there's just no other way forward and the greater good requires a loss." He looks Kolivan dead in the eye, then. "But your new soldier was too ready by far to see his own death, that day. He would have gone down with the barriers, given a little more time."

Kolivan's hands clench, the action sending his shoulders into a tight line as he squeezes his eyes closed. The low growl in his throat might have almost been Keith's name if one wanted to hear it. Realization spreads across every part of him, and he finally lets his breath out in a sigh.   
  
"Perhaps I tried too hard to instill the righteousness of the mission above all. I am...likely at fault for the losses we sustained. I would have hated for this to be another, so you have my gratitude for your intervention."    
  
There is an undeniable sadness in Kolivan's features when he opens his eyes again. He looks neither at Lotor, nor the stars. "Try as we might, he may feel he has no place, and therefore is worth the sacrifice, not just as a Blade, but as a Paladin. I don't know who steered him to such a belief, but it was not I and nor was it his Black Paladin."

"Wherever the roots of his... _ tendencies _ may be buried, he'll need to find a light to grow toward if he's going to survive this war, and survival is imperative. He may not be piloting a Lion, but he's still connected to the Paladins and losing one--" he had seen how one broken link could bring down the defender of the Universe. "Losing one could bring the rest tumbling down too. We don't have another 10,000 years to find another team capable of piloting Voltron."

"You are right. The first ten thousand were difficult enough. I will have to see if the opportunity to speak to him about it comes up. Don't think for a moment he won't know the source if I were to come at him with it this soon. I had hoped the pull of the other paladins would be enough, perhaps the familial bond of the Blades, but I must have misjudged. Either that or he still does not see his own worth."

Lotor only hums; it's too soon for him to start making guesses one way or the other, even if Keith's defensiveness has already given his suspicions a direction.    
  
"What of the others?" He crosses his arms in consideration, more than willing to let the concern for Kolivan's new charge shift to the back burner for the time being. He's particularly curious about Lance after what happened out in the asteroid field, but he doesn't feel particularly inclined to reveal that interest just yet. "And the Blade?"

"The others have a great deal of potential. One of them is damaged but strong, one has used the mission to search for lost family, others are homesick. But in all, they have a spirit reminiscent of their predecessor paladins. It tells me that, with time, that potential will show. They have already come through a great deal, but there is still so much more to a war than what they have seen so far."    
  
He takes a deep breath. "As for the Blade, we have grown few in number. Many have been lost, especially of late. I expected to see sacrifice, especially with Voltron rising once more, but it is still heavy on my conscience to know they gave their lives so easily for the mission that I said was more important than they were."

Lotor lifts a hand, hesitates, then decides to let it settle on Kolivan's shoulder blade. It's inadequate as a comfort, but he suspects few others have the gall to offer even this to someone like Kolivan.    
  
He folds his other arm over his chest and bows his head, honoring the old ways with the old words:   
  
"They are remembered."

Kolivan’s breath stills for only a moment, then he bows his head. He mimics the motion with his arm, proud and sad at once, grateful not to be alone.    
  
“They are remembered.”   
  
The silence lingers between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy with the weight of their burdens and their losses. They are no longer enemies, and perhaps while they’d dealt blows to one another with their moves on the battlefield, they can be comrades now. Kolivan has to trust that Lotor will not turn on them, as most of the paladins fear. And Lotor has to trust Kolivan with the respect he’s carried since his training. For now, at least, they fight on the same side.    
  
“Thank you, Lotor. You honor them with your words.”

"They honored a just cause with their lives and their deaths. Would that I could have called them comrades before their passing."    
  
Though his strategy of keeping close to the empire to make change from within certainly gave him the appearance of an enemy, a loyal son waiting for his turn to dominate all life, his goals had never been so distant from those of the Blade. He wanted honor for his people. He wanted to keep them safe, and threats could only keep a universe subjugated for so long. In time, fear and grief foster bitterness and retaliation, and the Galra will fall.    
  
It has only ever been a matter of time, so long as they maintain his father's course.    
  
"I'll never be able to offer adequate reconciliation for my father's crimes, not for the Blade of Marmora or for any of the lives lost to his madness. I cannot restore the honor of our society through policy now that my gambit for the throne and for peace has failed, but you have my blade, Kolivan."

This, at least, he can offer.

Kolivan pulls himself out of his solemn remembrance and turns to Lotor. He's considering the prince's words. Truly weighing what's been offered and not just dismissing it out of hand, as it would have happened from his own father. Of course, Kolivan doubts that whatever is sitting on the throne is anything other than a husk wearing Zarkon's mantle, though he doesn't dare insult Lotor by saying so. He suspects Lotor may already have similar thoughts as it is.   
  
"It would be an honor to have your blade, as well as your allegiance to our cause. I give you my word that you will eventually return to the Blade of Marmora headquarters with me." He reaches out, both hands on Lotor's shoulders, his focus absolute as he meets Lotor's eyes. "You are needed here first. It is important that they understand your intentions are, if not good, then for the good of the cause. Let them know the true heir to the Galra Empire, and in turn, let them show you that they are truly worthy as paladins. This foundation is important, as you all are even more critical to the mission than I or the Blade. It will not be easy, and the trust will take work. Do you accept that challenge, Lotor?"

It doesn't make sense, but Lotor feels taller under the weight of Kolivan's hands. The universe has been trying so hard to beat him down for so long, having his intentions to bend the long moral arc of the universe toward justice acknowledged validates him in a way he'll never admit to enjoying.   
  
He pulls in a slow breath, toned with determination. It has always been easier to just do things himself, when a thing needed doing. Working with others means working slowly, with all the moving parts less graceful than the ham-fisted metaphor that Voltron provides with its very existence would suggest. It'll take getting used to, but his pride won't allow him to fail again.    
  
"I accept, Teacher." A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Though I can't promise I won't ruffle their feathers some along the way. A man's disposition can hardly be helped," he shrugs

“I cannot say you shouldn’t, and that is all I will contribute on the matter.” A pause, a smile that shows teeth. “I am proud of you, Lotor. I suspect that as we further fight alongside one another, I will become even more so.”    
  
Kolivan releases him and moves to the doors. “And now, if you’ll pardon my leave, I have a temperamental pup to look for. Til next we meet, my Prince.”


End file.
